


five times drake & josh kissed

by likecharity



Category: Drake & Josh
Genre: M/M, Step-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-04
Updated: 2007-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likecharity/pseuds/likecharity
Summary: See title.





	five times drake & josh kissed

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind I've only seen about six episodes, so if any of the canon in this story (...not that there's much of that) is wildly inaccurate, that'd be the reason.

**One.**

The first time is because Drake got him tickets (and _backstage passes_ ) to go see Oprah. That was more than enough of a reason as far as Josh was concerned.

Sure, it may have been a little inappropriate, and it'd been quite a task persuading Megan not to put the photo all over the internet (that was twenty dollars he'd never see again, and he had the horrible feeling he was really only paying for her to buy more evil equipment to attack him and Drake with), but he couldn't help it, he was so happy. He'd kiss pretty much anyone in the world if they got him tickets (and _backstage passes_ ) to Oprah.

He was just a little concerned about how much he thought about it afterwards, how much time he spent justifying it, when the only person he was trying to convince was himself.

 

**Two.**

The second time, they were drunk, so it's not like that meant anything. Drake got pretty touchy-feely once he had some alcohol in him, and it's not like Josh was just going to shove him onto the floor when he collapsed in his lap.

"You have soft pants," Drake had slurred, settling his head against Josh's knees and squinting up at his face as he tilted a bottle in the general direction of his face, missed, and poured some of it down his front. He didn't appear to notice. "Soooooft. Pants," he repeated for emphasis.

Josh pressed his lips together but a laugh escaped anyway. He spluttered, looking down at Drake's blurry features. "Good to know," he grinned.

"Pants," said Drake again, now ignoring Josh completely. He furrowed his brow, apparently deep in thought. "That's one weird word, isn'it?"

Josh blinked at him. The room was kind of spinning around, or maybe it was the couch, or it could even have been Josh himself—he had no idea—but whatever it was, it was making it difficult to focus on anything. He took another sip of whatever the hell was in the glass he was holding—something brown and foul-tasting, he couldn't remember what it'd said on the label; the two of them had just raided Dad's liquor cabinet and gathered together whatever they could find—and listened happily to Drake's babbling.

"Like rhinocerous. RHI-nocerous. Nocerous. Noss-err-us," Drake went on.

"What?"

"What?"

"I dunno."

Josh nodded solemnly and took another sip of his drink. Drake made a series of strange facial expressions and then nodded with him.

"Pants," he said again, cracking up with laughter. "Pants, pants, pants."

"Stop saying pants," said Josh, "you're making it sound weird."

"That's the whole point," Drake informed him happily. "Pants. Pants. Pants, pants, pants—"

"If you don't stop—" Josh threatened, having no clue what was going to come next.

"PANTS, PANTS," Drake shouted, his face breaking into a huge grin.

Josh did the first thing that occurred to him, which, for some unknown reason, was to lean down and press his lips right against Drake's. Sideways.

"You're the wrong way up," Drake said against his lips, breathing alcohol-air into his mouth.

"Oh, I am, am I?" Josh murmured. "I think you'll find that's you."

But he twisted his head anyway, and did it again, and this time neither of them said anything, and neither of them laughed or moved away in disgust to wipe their mouth. Drake parted his lips slowly and Josh tasted a really quite disgusting mix of beer and rum and didn't even care all that much. Drake's hand was snaking up his back, underneath his t-shirt. He started to worry about the fact that his pants were beginning to feel a little tighter than usual, but got distracted by the word 'pants' and began to giggle.

Drake joined in for no apparent reason, and then, without warning, rolled off the couch and threw up on Josh's shoes.

The next morning, he appeared not to remember a single thing.

 

**Three.**

The third time didn't technically happen, because it was in Josh's subconcious, but he liked to count it anyway because it felt pretty damn real at the time. It was about a week after their drunken misadventure, and Josh had spent all of that time wishing it was him who'd lost bits of his memory instead of Drake, because he could remember every single detail of the night. He remembered the feel of Drake's warm, strong hand on his bare skin, the softness of Drake's liquor-tasting lips against his, the way it felt so comfortable. The main detail, really, the only thing he _needed_ to remember, was that the kiss had not felt wrong or disgusting or repulsive at all. Therefore, something was obviously wrong with him.

In his dream, he and Drake were on a boat for some reason. The boat was a rather eye-arresting shade of pink, and mostly consisted of a zoo. Drake was trying to persuade Josh to come and have a look at a rhinocerous. All in all, it was a pretty normal dream for Josh—it had all the regular bizarre aspects he was used to.

Until he and Drake began making out next to the tigers.

It would've been okay, probably, if he'd been able to just dismiss it as a weird dream. Which he might have been able to do, a few months ago. But not now. It didn't help that he woke up with a hard-on that was almost _painful_ , and the only other dream he could remember having that night was one about playing chess with George Clooney—not something that was likely to get him excited. But then again—since when was dreaming about _kissing his step-brother_ something that was likely to get him excited?

It only made it worse that when he leapt out of bed and into the shower as quick as he could to _deal_ with his problem, the dream just kept coming back to him. In the end he gave in and just let the images replay in his mind, let his hand tighten; speed up; twist in just the way he loved; until he was coming so hard he grabbed hold of the shower curtain and ended up pulling it off.

And, of course, Drake just _had_ to burst in on him (stupid, _stupid_ broken bathroom lock), wearing nothing but boxers (too small, thanks to Drake's weird phobia of buying underwear) and asking what was wrong.

Josh wrapped himself in the now-loose shower curtain, shooing his brother away, and Drake blurted out apologies and made a quick exit.

The worst part of the whole thing was that after that experience, the dream was the _only_ thing he was able to think about while he was jacking off, and it somehow always made his orgasms about ten times more intense.

 

**Four.**

Some guy at school was having a Halloween party. Josh had been debating for ages about whether or not to go, making up various excuses that were all cover-ups for the fact that he wasn't sure he'd be able to cope with spending the whole time with Drake and his date-of-the-week. She was a nice girl, pretty as usual, tall, with cute chin-length dark hair and little twinkly eyes, and he could see why Drake had gone for her.

But it still hurt. He'd seen the two of them on a couple of dates already, and both times he'd felt a strange tugging in his heart and had to excuse himself in order to go and sit quietly somewhere and bang his head against a wall.

Drake was going dressed up as Dracula and had spent a good couple of days before the party insisting that everybody called him 'Drake-ula'. Josh refused to do this, and, as the party got closer, eventually refused to go. Drake went anyway, which he supposed he should have expected.

About half an hour after Drake left, Megan turned up, telling Josh the sleepover she'd been invited to had got cancelled. She seemed furious, and Josh realised quickly that it would be much better to be miserable for a whole night at a party than tortured for a whole night by his little sister at home. He stopped at a cheap little costume shop on the way there, but to his disappointment the only thing they had left was some ridiculous cat costume, all shiny tight black stuff that made his skin itch, and a mask with little yellow slitty bits for the eyes that he could barely see out of.

He took it anyway, and bought a giant black cloak thing that was good for two reasons—one, it helped him keep warm because they were having a particularly cold October this year, and two, it did a good job of covering up the way he looked in spandex.

He'd only been at the party for about twelve seconds when Drake appeared out of nowhere, grabbed him around the waist, and planted a (thankfully fang-less) kiss on his lips. He peered at Drake through the yellow cellophane covering his eyes. Yes, it was Drake, underneath all the white make-up and black eyeliner. He was sure of it. He blinked a few more times, trying to make his vocal chords get their act together and do something useful.

"Where'd you disappear off to, Em?" Drake asked before Josh had a chance to speak, and his face fell. He gulped and shrugged, and Drake echoed his shrug, leaning in to embrace him once again. He really, really should have stepped away, revealed himself, even just run away, but he didn't. He pulled his brother closer and gave him one hell of a kiss, then scampered off down the stairs without a word, disgusted at himself.

On his way down, he passed someone in an identical costume to his, and it all became clear. He hoped Drake would not choose this night to become clever and insightful and the sort of person who worked these things out, and hurried off into the cold dark night, swatting third-grade trick-or-treaters away as he made his way back home.

 

**Five.**

Megan had an astonishingly large collection of magazines. Josh would not have expected this of her, but it was true. The proof was right in front of his eyes, spread all across her carpet. Every magazine was open at the same page. 'Advice.' Whether the advice came from someone called Psychic Susie or someone called Agony Aunt Annie, he didn't care. He just needed answers.

He couldn't believe he was looking at advice pages in magazines. He'd _been_ an advice columnist, and now he couldn't even give himself some good advice. He must not've been very good at his job after all.

On his hands and knees on the carpet, he pored over the pages, searching for a heading something along the lines of 'Help me! I'm in love with my stepbrother!' He didn't care that the letter, if he found one, would have come from a girl—the problem was the same.

But there was nothing to be found. He stood up and stomped angrily on Psychic Susie's face, cursing. His problem was obviously too disgusting, too _taboo_ to even be spoken about in a magazine.

Drake wandered past the open door, humming to himself. Josh ranted silently to himself about how maybe he'd be able to stop these feelings if Drake didn't spend all his time sashaying around in tight jeans and playing his guitar with his hair hanging over his face in a way that made Josh want to tuck it behind his ear and...

Drake backstepped into view, interrupting Josh's train of thought and frowning at him as he stood in the doorway.

"Why're you in Megan's room?" he asked. Fair question.

"I was going to..." said Josh weakly. "Steal her magazines?"

Drake just frowned. "Because...?"

Josh couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something odd about the way Drake was acting. Something about the way he kept glancing nervously at the open pages of the magazines, and the way he was tapping his fingers anxiously against his thigh. Before Josh could answer—not that he had an answer planned—Drake dropped to the floor and grabbed a magazine, clutching it tightly to his chest.

"Uh," said Josh. "What?"

"I'm..." Drake said weakly. "Helping you steal her magazines?"

Josh reached out and carefully pried the magazine out of Drake's hands. Well, he tried to. Drake was holding onto it so tightly that he eventually had to just tear the page out, and it ripped in half. Drake looked down at the part of the page he still had, and his face fell, giving Josh the general idea that he had whatever Drake didn't want him to see.

He looked down.

 _Help me, Psychic Susie!_ the page read, _I think I'm in love with my stepbrother._

He looked up.

Drake tried his best to look innocent and clueless. Usually, he was rather good at this, but it wasn't working now.

_Susie, I have a serious problem. I think I'm in love with my stepbrother. We've been good friends for a few years now but now I'm starting to think my feelings are something stronger than that. A few nights ago we kissed when we were drunk, but neither of us has mentioned it since then, even though I can't stop thinking about it. I keep trying to turn my attention to other, er, boys, but it doesn't work. Please help me! – Drakina in San Diego._

Josh swallowed and looked back up.

Drake was biting his lip. "You didn't read the response," he said. "Psychic Susie went on for almost a whole page about how sick and wrong the whole thing was, and that she had a 'vision' of our parents finding out and both dying of heart attacks."

Josh stifled a laugh. He couldn't believe he could even want to laugh in a situation like this. "Drakina?" was all he said.

"Shut up," snapped Drake, but he was starting to laugh too.

"It was me in the cat costume," Josh admitted suddenly, unable to keep that secret any longer.

"I know," said Drake, "I found it under your bed."

Josh blushed. "You don't mind?"

Drake gestured to the scrap of magazine in Josh's hand, then said, "You're a better kisser than her anyway."

Josh smiled in a way that threatened to burst his whole face. "Really?" he said in a small voice.

Drake rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, but don't go all soppy on me or anything, I might just have to leave."

Josh took a step closer, letting the scrap of paper flutter to the floor, and grabbed Drake by the waist. Their lips met softly, gently, moving slowly, until Josh parted Drake's lips with his tongue and then it was just like in his dream—weird, right and wrong at the same time, but _perfect_.

They both completely forgot that they were in Megan's room until they heard her coughing politely in the doorway.

Megan stood looking at them, her arms crossed, and Josh sighed and took his wallet out of his pocket.

"I have a feeling it's going to take more than twenty bucks this time, bro," Drake muttered in his ear, but Josh decided he really didn't care.  



End file.
